We are at a less busy time of the year at work which is good because ever since Andrew was born I have been having trouble focusing at work. I go into the office and surf the internet looking at parenting sites, wander the halls looking for colleagues to chat with about my son and today I even went down to my car and took a nap to dream of him. Although the nap was more a product of sleeplessness due to waking up for nightly feedings and crying (I'll let you guess who is the one crying).

I wish I could be more productive but all I can think about is my little guy. I suppose it does not help that I have pictures of him all over my office and on my computer but I am not taking them down. I have been wondering if this lack of industry on my part is normal; I assume that it is. But I also wonder if it will eventually fade and the “new normal” will sink in and I will go back to my normal daily routine.

Speaking of the little guy, he was 3 months old on Valentine’s Day.  It seems like such a short period of time and yet it seems like a lifetime ago. It is remarkable to see how he is growing. The credit goes to his mother. I’ve managed to kill plants sturdier than he is. He is just the cutest person I have ever laid my eyes on. It has been entertaining and hypnotizing sitting there watching him as he looks around the room in wonder and amazement and makes new sounds. He has learned now to smile and generally about once a day we can get him to laugh out loud as well; it is more of a giggle than a laugh, but it still melts my heart.

Even when he cries it feels good to know that I am the one who needs to soothe him and make him feel better. Sometimes, it is a challenge trying to calm Andrew down, but there is great joy in knowing that I have the responsibility for him; he is crying for me.

On Sunday, my mother is having a party for him. In lieu of having a baby shower, we decided to have an open house with my mother hosting. We invited about 14 adults and 11 kids to come meet Andrew. Our closest friends have met him of course, but there are still many people who have not. It is supposed to snow on Sunday so I am not sure what the turnout will be like.

Dear Son - 

I think I should explain to you why I call you Pop Tart. In our family, pop tarts are very special, but don’t ever eat one because they are very high in sugar and have very little nutritional value. The story of the pop tart is the story of how I met your mother. 

In late August 1995, I was a member of the local chapter of the Jaycees. They were having a conference in Roanoke. I had just broken up with a girl the month before so I wasn’t looking to get into a relationship. The Jaycees were a fun group of people so I thought this would be a good way to spend the weekend. 

That Friday, I got in my car and drove the four hours to the conference which was being held in a large outdoor area with pavilions. Everyone at the conference was paired up with two other people in the hotel room but I was lucky because I was only sharing the room with one other guy who’s name was Dave. 

That night, there was a cookout to welcome everyone. I was wondering around the lawn when I met your Aunt Alex (Troy’s mom) for the first time. We chatted for about 15 minutes when two of Aunt Alex’s friends walked up and she introduced me to a woman named Kim and another woman who would later turn out to be your mother. The three of them were sharing a hotel room together and had driven down with my roommate Dave. 

I remember your mother was wearing a pink polo shirt and beige shorts and her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. She had the biggest, friendliest smile I had ever seen. Your mother and I spent the rest of that evening talking. The next morning, I found your mother and we ended up sitting together at all the meetings. That night, the Jaycees were having a dinner at a restaurant but your mom and her roommates didn’t have a car because they had gotten a ride with Dave. So, I drove Aunt Alex, Kim, and your mom to the dinner. Your mother and I sat together at dinner and couldn’t stop talking to each other. We had a lot in common and enough things different that it made getting to know her very interesting. I knew from the moment I met your mother that I liked her, but I didn’t know how she felt about me. Later that night, the four of us were driving back from the long evening, and I mentioned that I was hungry and wanted to stop to grab something to eat. 

Your mother looked at me and said, “Oh, if you don’t want to stop, I have a pop tart back at the hotel.” 

I didn’t stop. The four of us went back to the hotel room where your mother and I shared her last pop tart. When she gave me that pop tart, I knew she liked me too because let’s face it son, you don’t give your last pop tart to just anybody. The next day it was time to pack up and go home so your mother gave me her phone number. 

A couple of days later I called her for a first date and she ended up standing me up. But that’s a story for another time. 

I love you Pop Tart!

After several years of mild winters, this year’s cold season seems less bearable. It harkens me back to my college days when I would have to take a train and two busses just to get to school in the frigid and windy weather. To add insult to injury, I would need to march from building to building across the campus to get to my classes all the while avoiding icy patches and contracting wind burns on my face. Because of this, I have not had any adoration for the winter season. 

However, over the last several years of “global warming” (if you are a liberal) or “climate change” (if you are a conservative) I was beginning to rethink my stance on the first quarter of the year. Oh how wrong I was! Old man winter has been awakened from his hibernation and come out of his den with the vengeance of a hungry black bear. I am fortunate that now I have a car to protect me from the elements and I have a garage at the office. Also, I have the luxury to work in an office and no need to go outside if I chose not to. 

Temperatures for most of January have been in the 20s, which I realize is not cold if you live in the north, but to us folk below the Mason-Dixon Line, it is unbearable. I was overjoyed today to have the mercury reach 58 degrees and the sun shine bright. Even though Punxsutawney Phil sees another six weeks of winter. Tomorrow of course, we are forecasted to have another snow storm so we took this window of opportunity to experience “outside”. We decided to take Andrew for a walk to a park in our neighborhood.

Even in the grey of winter we still have some greenery

This trail winds its way across the entire county and connects all the parks.

A walk in the park

The creek is frozen

I always love coming to this bridge - even in the winter

  

Later that day - Watching the Super Bowl and cringing!